


the way of wanting

by andthemumblingintensifies



Category: Cats - Andrew Lloyd Webber, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats - T. S. Eliot
Genre: Broadway, Cats, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Rejection, i don't know how to tag stories?, i will write as every character if i please, i'm projecting myself on to a fucking cat, it's cats, kittenhood friends to lovers, point of view?, so they all have anxiety, theyre gay cats what more do you want?, what's a point of view?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:13:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23554366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthemumblingintensifies/pseuds/andthemumblingintensifies
Summary: He didn't believe him. For the first time in his life, Tugger knew exactly what he wanted, and Mistoffelees didn't believe him, and he was going to lose his mind trying to convince him.a.k.a. The Rum Tum Tugger confesses to his best friend, and everything goes downhill from there.
Relationships: Mr. Mistoffelees/Rum Tum Tugger
Comments: 27
Kudos: 133





	1. something in the air

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! so, this is my first time venturing into the cats fandom, which i didn't even know existed until last week. one week into the fandom, i decided that there was nowhere near enough fanfic for these two. and thus, here i am. hope you enjoy :)

There is something different about the air on the night of a Jellicle Ball. If you won’t take my word for it, then go ahead, ask any Jellicle cat. Should they deem you worthy of being spoken to, they will give the same answer. Perhaps it is the excitement. Perhaps it is the Jellicle moon. Perhaps it is magic. Perhaps it is a little bit of all three, or maybe something else entirely. Each cat has their own theories and their own ideas but comes to the same conclusion. Something is different about the night of a Jellicle Ball, it simply is. This one was no different. 

The festivities had long since waned down, but that spark was still in the atmosphere, a spark of energy, of curiosity that always lingered long after the chosen cat was sent to the Heaviside Layer. Every cat could feel it, even as they left the junkyard. It was this feeling that was currently emboldening the spirit of The Rum Tum Tugger. 

“It has to be tonight,” he insisted, standing by the old car with his elder brother, Munkustrap. He spoke with hushed urgency, trying to hide the conversation from the few cats still left behind. 

Munkustrap eyed him with vague worry-like suspicion. He’d never quite trusted his brother’s judgment or any of his pursuits. “Are you sure you’re ready for it? It’s been a long night, it might be best to wait.” 

“I’m not waiting!” Tugger snapped, then quickly hushed, aware once more of the cats standing near. “It has to be tonight, if I don’t do it tonight, then I never will.” 

“Are you _sure?_ You might change your mind.” 

“I won’t,” he insisted, looking past Munkustrap in apparent focus. Munkustrap sighed and rolled his eyes. There was no bargaining here, he knew that, but he might as well keep trying. 

“And if he says no?” 

“You’re always dou-”

“If he says no,” he repeated, firmly redirecting Tugger’s gaze to him, “What then?” 

Tugger looked at his brother seriously, pretending that the insistence didn’t worry him. He knew it was a risk. He knew it wasn’t the same as talking to any other cat. It wasn’t just one of the queens who threw herself at him anyway; it was his best friend. If things went south… 

Well, they just wouldn’t. There was no way around that. He had been planning this for months, there was no way it could go wrong. It had to work. It had to. 

“It’ll be _fine_ ,” he said, folding his paws together so they wouldn’t shake. And then, just to prove how very fine he was, he added, “You’ve always worried about me too much.” 

Munkustrap scoffed. “Right. If I can’t even protect you, how can the tribe take me seriously?” 

A familiar pair began walking towards them, and Tugger signaled for Munkustrap to turn around and- oh, goodness. How was it possible for anyone to tremble as severely as he was right now? This shouldn’t be happening to him, for the Everlasting’s sake, he was strong, unaffected. Never...whatever this was. A light breeze could have brought him to the ground as he saw Mistoffelees approach, the smile on his face brilliant as anything, yet no different than any other smile he'd given. 

Old Deuteronomy, approaching with Mistoffelees, gave a kind greeting, “Hello, boys.” 

“Ready to head home, Dad?” Munkustrap asked. It was evident that Tugger was in no place to respond, too busy focusing on breathing instead of dying right on the spot. 

Mistoffelees stepped a little bit away from Old Deuteronomy and towards Tugger, pulling him aside from the other two. “Figured that desperate look you were giving me was a signal that you wanted to go,” he muttered, a smirk on his face. “I know how you hate Munkustrap’s speeches.” 

“I’m just looking out for him,” Munkustrap cut in indignantly, “Anyway, we’re going now. See you later.” 

“Make sure he gets home safe, alright, Quaxo?” Old Deuteronomy teased, patting Mistoffelees on the shoulder. 

“Haven’t put him in danger yet,” Mistoffelees reminded him. 

There were a few final laughs, a few hugs all around, and then the goodbyes. Before they knew it, Old Deuteronomy and Munkustrap were walking off together, and Tugger was alone with Mistoffelees. 

Mistoffelees gazed at the sky for a moment. “The sun’s gonna rise soon,” he stated, then looked back to Tugger. “Are you alright?”

Tugger’s head whipped around to look at Mistoffelees. This was too much, this was just far too much. How had anyone ever done this? _Had_ anyone ever done this before? Or was he the first? He couldn’t imagine that anyone would willingly put themselves through this torture. “Eh, I’m fine. You know how they get to me.” 

“Seemed like they were being cordial enough this time.” 

Tugger shrugged. “I always feel something a bit off. I’m too different from them.” 

Mistoffelees smiled a knowing smile, the smile of friends sharing secrets and mischief with comfortable ease. He let himself sway and bump into Tugger’s side affectionately. “Not that that ever mattered to you.” He glanced up at the moon, sinking low in the inky sky and suggested, “We should probably go home too.” 

It was a tradition. As far back as either of them could remember, they walked home together from each and every Jellicle Ball. More often than not, they went to the Ball together, too. As a matter of fact, it was rare for one to go to or from the junkyard without the other. Munkustrap and Old Deuteronomy had stayed together, inseparable, but Tugger had been adopted by another family as a kitten. It wasn’t long after that that Mistoffelees had been adopted by the family next door, and before long they traveled everywhere together. Adoption was often frightening for the kittens; Tugger and Mistoffelees took comfort in each other’s proximity. So they never stopped their walks together, even if they separated briefly at their destination.

Tugger stayed rooted to his place and folded his paws behind his back so that Mistoffelees couldn’t see him tremble. This wasn’t his sort of thing. Feelings, by and large, were a topic that he tried to avoid. Too much work, really, all that feeling, but there was nothing to be done about it now. He was in too deep, he had waited too long. He had to. 

“Do you mind,” he began, then halted, then opened his mouth, then closed it.

Tugger’s confidence began to slip, and the feeling was so foreign that he could scream. “I’d rather stay here. Just a little longer.” 

Already well acquainted with his friend’s indecisive disposition, Mistoffelees obliged, moving to sit on the rusted old bumper of the car. Tugger didn’t follow. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Tugs? You seem off,” Mistoffelees asked again. Tugger could melt, but he didn’t. He swallowed back the warmth and the fear and all the shaking, shaking, shaking inside him and took three deep, measured breaths. 

“I actually,” he swallowed and tried again, “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“Then tell me.” 

Tugger took one last lingering, longing glance at Mistoffelees, cementing this moment in his mind. The moon was setting, white light reflecting off of Mistoffelees’ coat. He memorized the way those nimble, magical fingers tucked under the metal, the way he leaned ever so slightly forwards. His face was inquisitive, worried, and, oh, such a grand temptation. Tugger wasn’t sure what he wanted to do first after he confessed. Catch Mistoffelees in his arms? Sweep him off of the car and hold him directly to himself? Maybe if he was daring enough (and Mistoffelees willing), he would rain love down upon him, using his mouth for wordless praise. Oh, yes, Tugger decided that that was what he would like to do best. Finally know what Mistoffelees felt like, tasted like…

Everlasting, he was getting ahead of himself, and with each passing second, Mistoffelees looked at Tugger with more confusion than before. 

Right, he might as well.

A final breath, one more reassurance, and, “I’m in love with you, Mistoffelees.” 

And they were both paralyzed. 

There is something different about the air on the night of a Jellicle Ball. Some may say excitement, some may say magic. On this particular night, however, under this particular Jellicle moon, any cat would have to agree that it was fear. 

There was something undecipherable in Mistoffelees’ steady gaze. Tugger took it for shock, just shock and nothing more. He wasn’t sure how else to describe it, and he didn’t know what he would do if it was terror. Or worse, disgust. _Don’t be scared. Don’t hate me, don’t hate this, don’t tell me no._

Mistoffelees hesitated, staring very, _very_ hard at the ground. Staring as though the act of looking would bore a hole through it; a path for him to escape. “You’re in love with me?” 

_Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no._

“Yes, that is what I said.” He smiled his typical suave grin, although it didn’t come

quite as easily as it usually did. “So?” 

“So?” Mistofelees finally brought his eyes back up to meet Tugger’s. He felt as though he was being burned. _Keep your head up, keep your chest out. You’ve got this. It’s only a matter of time before he admits it._

“What do you say?” _Please don’t say no._

Mistoffelees sat still, silent. The entire world seemed to be holding its breath. Tugger could usually tell what was behind that quiet demeanor, or at least have a general idea. He could usually learn all he needed to know about his emotional state from a second or two of watching. He had no goddamn idea what Mistoffelees was thinking now, and it killed him. For the first time in as long as he could remember, The Rum Tum Tugger was deeply, truly, abso _lutely_ terrified. 

“Tugger,” Mistoffelees began tenderly, “What is this about?”

 _There it was. The rejection._ It stung, but he pretended it didn’t, hoping that that would ease his mind. Wash it away. _Don’t say no. You can’t say no_. “I love you, Misto, I…” 

The heavy gaze settled in his bones, filling in the empty space of him, weighing him down. He’d never felt so heavy in his whole life. Mistoffelees may not have said anything, but he didn’t have to. Tugger knew his friend, knew his mind, and he knew what he was thinking right now. Something in him cracked, broke, fell to the ground, bare before Mistoffelees’ feet. 

“You don’t believe me.” 

Mistoffelees sighed and stood up, joining Tugger back on the ground. It was this silence that gave it away. Any doubt, anything that could have given some light or some hope was gone in that silence. “I never said that-” 

“You didn’t have to!” Tugger snapped suddenly, pulled to his breaking point. 

Mistoffelees simply stood his ground, unflinching as always. Always the voice of reason to Tugger’s damn near neuroticism. “Well, what do you want from me, Tugs?” He asked. “How am I supposed to react?” 

“It would be nice if you didn’t think I was lying, for a start.” This plan was crashing down around him. He had been so sure, and it was all going to shit. 

“How do you expect me to believe that you lo-” his voice caught, but he tried to play it off, “That... you’re off with someone else every other day, you can see why I’m suspicious.” 

Tugger stuttered, “I-” 

“You flirt with any and every queen or tom that approaches you, and I wouldn’t change you for the world, Tugger, but this is coming out of nowhere!” 

Tugger very nearly growled (if a cat can do such a thing), stepping closer to Mistoffelees as he demanded, “Just. Tell me.” He was too close now, he knew. Mistoffelees was a hard, determined line before him. “Do you love me or not?” 

Mistoffelees lowered his voice, mere inches away from Tugger now. Their eyes met and held steady as he asked, “Do you really love me?”

Tugger rushed to reassure him, in a similar tone, “Wha- I- I, of course! I just said-” 

“Or,” Mistoffelees continued as if Tugger hadn’t spoken at all, “Is this just you wanting something that you can’t have?” 

Tugger fell silent, looking desperately into Mistoffelees’ eyes. He was studying him, he knew. He did it often in their quiet moments; those black eyes would run over him, bore into him, figure him out. Tugger hadn’t minded until now. Now it felt that he was being judged, that he was being taken apart and set before Mistoffelees and marked a sham. He knew that he wasn’t the most genuine cat, he knew he had his faults, but he had never expected them to drive a wedge between the two of them before. Now it was the reason this had all fallen apart, the reason Mistoffelees would never willingly lay by his side. _I’m trying_ , he forced his eyes to say, _I’m not like this for just anyone, Misto. Please believe me. Please don’t say no._

“Well,” Mistoffelees said, but he couldn’t quite decide how he would follow it up. He forced another, “Well.” 

“Misto,” Tugger interrupted, “I mean it. I wouldn’t lie to you. I would never lie to you.” 

Mistoffelees seemed to soften for a second, to lean the smallest bit towards Tugger, as though he would rest his head against his chest. But the moment passed as soon as it came. Mistoffelees hardened and withdrew. Tugger felt as though he would sob.

“I’m going home, Tugs,” Mistoffelees muttered, finality and determination in his tone. He pulled away from Tugger and began walking past him, away from the junkyard. 

“Mistoffelees!” Tugger whipped around and called after him, voice broken almost to begging. He wasn’t even aware that he could make such a sound, “Wait, don’t go. Let’s just forget this happened. It’s no issue, right?” 

The look that Mistoffelees gave Tugger was somewhere between a glare and an empty, desperate thing as he asked, “Is that actually what you want?” 

He hesitated. He wanted Mistoffelees, he wanted _them_ , he wanted to do all the things that he couldn’t do with anyone else. His wanting was so huge that he had no idea where to begin. He wanted an entire life, and he wanted to preserve what they’d had for so long. His gut twisted painfully with the thought, another thing that he had yet to experience before this night. He didn’t answer.

“You don’t know what you want, Tugger. You can’t decide.” 

And, without even giving Tugger a chance to respond, he vanished into thin air.

Tugger walked away from the junkyard, noting with distaste that the sun was rising.


	2. thinking (and the dangers therein)

Mr. Mistoffelees enjoyed a long walk in a way that he enjoyed very few pursuits. It was peaceful. While the other cats had their gatherings and their customs, Mistoffelees kept to himself. Much quieter than the others, he always preferred solitude. Or, semi-solitude, at the least. He was kind enough to each cat, and he could tolerate their presence, even like them. But he always preferred the journey to and from the junkyard to actually being there. It was when he could think without the world bombarding him; when he could get lost in his many, many thoughts. 

He should be out there. Even if he didn't want to be around the other cats, it was good to get out. Mistoffelees far preferred anything he could do at the junkyard to the nothing he did inside.  And yet Mistoffelees sat miserably on the windowsill, watching the daily bustle outside his window. Nothing entertaining ever happened, but for one daily occurrence. Every day for a week, Mistoffelees looked out the window as Tugger paused beneath and waited. Tugger never waited for long, but he waited nonetheless. Those few moments tortured Mistoffelees; left his chest tight and aching.

Since their fight, Mistoffelees had felt odd. It was as if something was pulling him in two different directions. He was pulled too far and too thin, nearing the point of fracture. His head throbbed constantly, a painful drum beating in his head. It was miserable. 

Mistoffelees still didn't risk the walk to the Junkyard. Too much time to himself, too many thoughts. Thinking, naturally, led to thinking of Tugger, and thinking of Tugger led to dangerous places. Dangerous places being the way Tugger had looked at him that night, the way he had always looked at him, the way that he had seemed so genuine…

Oh, Everlasting, no. There was no way. Mistoffelees shook his head, clearing it of less-than-desirable thoughts. It would do no good to linger. 

_ Outside! Look, look! _

Mistoffelees turned his gaze out to the street once more, just in time to see Tugger approach. He paused, as always, then looked up to the window. Those eyes flashed, dangerous and familiar and knowing. He  _ knew _ . He saw Mistoffelees watching and perhaps he had seen Mistoffelees watching all along and worst of all he  _ knew _ . 

He held his breath, forgetting that he could easily disappear. He held his breath and hoped, no,  _ prayed _ that Tugger would move on. If he saw Mistoffelees watching, then it wouldn't be hard for him to figure out the rest. Tugger knew Mistoffelees, and that scared him. He knew him so well that, just from one glance, he might be able to tell all the conflict Mistoffelees felt. He'd know just how hard this was on him. He'd know that, of all the stupid things in the world, Mistoffelees had done the most stupid. The one thing he knew he couldn't, the one thing he would deny until the end of his days. 

Outside, Tugger bowed his head and ran a paw through the thick mane. His hips swayed as he turned and left in the direction of the Junkyard. Mistoffelees' eyes followed intently as he disappeared, away, away, away. The disappearing figure of Tugger's body nearly pulled Mistoffelees off of the window sill, entreating him to follow. 

He knew he shouldn't. He knew that, as soon as he was with Tugger again, something would go wrong. It was too soon. It might always be too soon. Tugger was getting farther away. 

If he left this ledge, it would not be for Tugger. It would be for himself, so he could get back to his life as normal. Or, it would be for his other friends. The other cats had no idea where he had gone, and there had to be one or two who cared enough to worry. There were plenty of valid reasons for Mistoffelees to return to the Junkyard, and none of them had anything to do with Tugger. 

And Mistoffelees repeated just that to himself as he walked down the street.

-

Tugger sat on the hood of the old car, keeping watch over the clearing. His attentive eyes surveyed among the cats for that tell-tale flash of black and white. Every day for a week, he waited under Mistoffelees' window for a sign of life. Acknowledgment. Today was the first time he'd seen him, the first time their eyes met since...the incident. Mistoffelees would be coming in no time at all, Tugger was sure of it. He had seen him. He knew what that look had meant. He was watching so vigilantly that he didn't notice his brother had joined him until he spoke. 

“You’re  _ still _ doing this?” Munkustrap asked, incredulous. 

Tugger rolled his eyes. The answer was too obvious; the question didn't deserve his attention. 

“You know he’s not coming, Tug. You’re wasting your time.” 

Tugger wavered, but soon steadied himself. Mistoffelees wouldn't let him down. He knew what he saw. “He’s coming today.'

Munkustrap continued, “You told me what he said, you should just accept it.” 

“You weren’t there. You don’t know.” Any moment now. Any moment now, Mistoffelees would walk into the Junkyard, and Tugger would melt, and they would talk and fix this entire mess of things.  _ Come on, come on… _

“You have to move on. It's been a week already,” Munkustrap pressed further, “How about you go talk to Bombalurina? She’ll get your mind off of things.” 

Tugger scoffed. "Not interested." 

“Well, someone else, then! They’re getting worried, you know.” 

Tugger was about to say,  _ "Well, let them worry!" _ when a gleeful shout from below stole his attention away. Victoria’s unmistakable voice cried out, “Mistoffelees! Where have you been?” 

Tugger’s head whipped in the direction of the sound and, sure enough, there he was. Mistoffelees stood in the clearing, Victoria on one side of him and Cassandra on the other, and Mistoffelees was  _ there _ . He knew that he couldn’t leave him alone like this, and Mistoffelees was standing right there!

“Oh no,” Munkustrap warned, seeing the way that Tugger was looking down into the clearing. He reached out, forcefully grabbing Tugger's arm. “Really, just leave him alo-” 

“I can handle myself,” Tugger suddenly growled, freeing himself with a single, sharp, shake. 

Munkustrap sighed as Tugger slid off the car. “I really don’t know why I bother at this point.”

This would be easy. They would talk and clear things up and everything would be fine. Mistoffelees would come to believe him, he had to. Tugger wasn’t sure how he would go on otherwise. He ignored the drumline beating away in his chest.

Mistoffelees met his eyes, and then immediately turned away, slowly guiding Victoria and Cassandra to a farther corner of the clearing. He continued the conversation more earnestly, wild eyes glancing up every now and again to monitor Tugger’s approach. The other two took notice now, and their curious eyes switched back and forth between Mistoffelees and Tugger himself, confused and worried. 

“Okay, Misto, don’t worry,” he heard Victoria say as he came up on them, “I’ll just take you to my den and-” 

Tugger, undetected by either of them, announced his presence with a grin and, “Mistoffelees! Long time, no see.” 

Mistoffelees seemed torn up about where to look, his eyes flitting up and down, between the ground and Tugger himself. If Tugger looked just close enough, he could have sworn he saw Mistoffelees’ figure slipping just barely out of reality, into somewhere else, somewhere he couldn’t follow. In this here-yet-soon-fleeting state, Mistoffelees muttered a quick, nervous, “Hi,” and then addressed Victoria, looking past them. “Is that Plato over there?” 

Tugger bristled, his frustration mounting. His stomach was simmering, boiling, and Mistoffelees was just ignoring him, leading Victoria away eagerly. He stepped between them, stopping Mistoffelees in his tracks. 

He swallowed down the emotion brewing inside him, and tried again, softer. “Misto, can we talk?”

Mistoffelees hesitated, “Tug, I-” 

“We can go somewhere else,” he suggested, “If you want.” 

Mistoffelees paused again. Why was he so afraid? Had it really been that bad? The entire situation was a train wreck, to be sure, but Mistoffelees had never been this timid around him.  _ Please don’t be afraid of me. _

Victoria and Cassandra moved at the same time, going to separate the two of them, but Mistoffelees stilled them with a look. He seemed to weigh his options silently, intensely engaged in thought. Tugger grabbed at his studded belt, worrying his thumb over the ridges, ever so subtly. Mistoffelees inhaled. 

“Alright, Tugs,” he answered, finally, sighing with his entire body. “Let’s talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope the wait wasn't too long :) 
> 
> also, here's my twitter so you can yell at me to write, if you so please. along with regular fandom nonsense, i tweet updates on chapter progress occasionally: https://twitter.com/yeehaw_fellas


	3. the purpose of a moment

Neither of them really led the way, but they walked together. By some mutual understanding, they ended up in a clearing, a little way off from the main one. It was smaller, perhaps messier, with empty cans strewn about and bottles half-melted or singed black. There was a crate in one corner, angled so that it served as a stool for anyone who wanted to look directly into the center of the clearing. 

The other cats didn’t usually venture out here. The bright blue flashes of light that occasionally came from it certainly didn’t help it appear welcoming. The tribe knew that this was Mistoffelees’ ground for practicing and they knew that Tugger was often with him when he did. 

Mistoffelees had come across the clearing a few years prior, and Tugger had joined him soon after. It was both of their areas, not necessarily for just one or the other but for the two of them, together. The others were careful not to interfere with whatever may go on there. Perhaps that was what had led the two of them here, now. They knew what they needed. Or, where they needed to be. 

Tugger paused next to the crate, the point where he most often was and the point where he was most comfortable. His paws had worn down this ground, he was the one who repurposed it. He and Mistoffelees together. He stayed. 

“What do you want, Tugger?” Mistoffelees asked, finally, looking up into Tugger’s face with indignation. “What on Earth is this about?” 

Tugger opened his mouth, then closed it again. His paw had kept its grip around his belt the entire time, growing warm. 

Mistoffelees nodded in response to nothing, turning away and answering his own question. “It’s about what you said.” 

As if this startled him to action, but no specific one, Tugger said, gently, “I love you.” 

Mistoffelees sighed, still refusing to look him in the eyes. He didn’t know what would happen if he did, if he allowed his friend to see into him. If he looked back. Wasn’t it only a week ago that things were normal? Wasn’t it only a week ago when they sat next to each other at the Jellicle Ball, even danced together? How short the time, and yet how profound the change! Mistoffelees couldn’t even look into Tugger’s eyes for fear of being honest with him. Wasn’t it only a few weeks ago that he confided in Tugger all of his fears about the Ball? And now, here they were. 

How short the time, how profound the change. 

“Misto… ” Tugger spoke, uncharacteristically calm, “Misto, just tell me. I want to know.” 

Mistoffelees laughed, dry and humorless. Dejected, tired. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” He turned around, attempting to keep himself from breathing too harshly. “Either way, you’re going to move on. If we keep coming back to this, we can’t stay friends. You know that.” 

“I’ll let it go if you can just be honest with me,” Tugger said. Again, he repeated, “I just want to _ know _ .” 

“Let it go, Tugs. Please. Let’s just move on,” Mistoffelees tried, half-desperate. 

Tugger shook his head and advanced a step forward. “Mistoffelees, I need to know. If you’re going to say ‘no’, then say ‘no’.” 

“Tugger…” 

“Just say  _ something _ , Mistoffelees.” 

He could break, here and now. He could let all of those uncategorized, uncensored, unacknowledged thoughts spill out onto the ground. He could tell him, he could be honest, he could let him see.

He could lose him. He was going to lose him anyway. 

If he was going to lose, he could at least lose with some dignity.

“No,” Mistoffelees said, “I don’t have to answer. I don’t have to put up with this, Tug.” 

“But-” Tugger began.

“No!” He repeated, more emphatically. “I’m not like your posse. I don’t do whatever you want me to, and I thought you knew that.” 

Tugger did nothing in half-measures. He was desperate, and he was mad. “After all we’ve been through, I thought you might trust me. I know you better than anyone here, Mistoffelees. Don’t I at least deserve an answer?” 

Tugger was stepping closer again, but Mistoffelees refused to step back. He wasn’t weak, and he wasn’t afraid. It was Tugger, after all. What was the worst he could do? 

“I get it, you know,” he tried to appeal, “I know you’re difficult by design, and I know there really isn't anything I can do or I would do about it.” 

Tugger only stood there and watched, Mistoffelees’ words no longer stoking the fire inside of him. He watched and he tried to shake the feeling that something was dying. 

“But come  _ on _ ,” Mistoffelees continued, “You’re never like this when it matters. Why now?” 

“I know you feel something, Misto,” Tugger didn’t quite answer, “I know you feel something, and if you’d just believe me-” 

“Why would you think that?” Mistoffelees asked, forcing himself not to think, not to think. If he delved even the smallest bit down, with Tugger here, it wouldn’t end well. Not that this was going any better. “Because everyone else is  _ so _ hopelessly enamored?” 

There was nothing unkind in his tone, he knew. It wasn’t intended to hurt or to accuse. No, it was their old teasing-- could it have been only a week ago?-- slipping back into conversation. Easy and sure as an old friend, as if nothing was wrong. Tugger grinned at him, and Mistoffelees had to force himself back out.  _ Not here. Not now.  _

“You know why,” Tugger told him, that same grin across his face. Closer again. “Are you jealous, Mistoffelees?” 

“Do you care?” 

It was gone. They looked at each other, plain and simple, and that easy feeling was gone. The atmosphere was thick with emotions and with secrets and with spite. They stood close, close, too close, and Mistoffelees had to crane his neck up to look Tugger in the eyes. Tugger was looking back down. Heavy, everything was so heavy, and there was no reason for it to be.

_ There was every reason, every reason in the world. _

They breathed in the same air, held the same moment. There was nothing to it and yet, everything. There was so much just hanging around them. Some of it had been said. Some of it hadn’t, maybe it never would. How can one measure a moment? How can it be measured when it weighs so much? The weight of it pressed down on them, sagged them towards the ground, where they stood together. The same air. The same moment. 

Space and connection. Something probably quite ineffable. 

Tugger didn’t even realize what he was doing. All that was in his mind as he gathered Mistoffelees’ in towards him, against him, was  _ don’t make me do this.  _ Over and over again.  _ Don’t make me do this, Misto. Don’t make me do this.  _

Some moments are made for very specific things. There are moments made for crying, and moments made for laughter. There are moments to feign shock at something that one has just done, and there are moments that are designed for a sudden yell or outburst of uncontrollable emotion. Each of these moments has a certain feeling. You know when they are upon you, for they impress their full purpose onto your mind. You find that try as you might, you simply cannot avoid it. 

There is a moment here. And this moment was a moment that was crafted with one specific purpose in mind. There are some things that nobody, no matter how clever or sensible the individual,  _ nobody _ could avoid. 

Thus, it only made sense that, as Tugger pulled Mistoffelees by his waist, Mistoffelees fell willingly into him. Too willingly. They looked at each other, held this second together. Shared their space, shared their lives. It was nothing too new. 

There is a moment here. And this moment was crafted for them to kiss. To feel. To break down those boundaries. 

Sometimes a moment passes. 

“Tugger, we…” Mistoffelees protests quietly, letting himself back down, “You don’t want this.” 

Tugger refused to shift, to back away. He did nothing in half-measures. And when he wanted as profoundly as he wanted right now,  _ he got it _ . 

“Try me,” he oozed. And, with a sharp inhale, he surged forward, holding Mistoffelees even tighter, bringing one parched mouth to another. 

Mistoffelees could disappear if he wanted to. He could slip from Tugger’s arms and be years away by the time Tugger found him. He  _ could _ . 

So why wasn’t he? Why was he staying? 

Mistoffelees came to the unfortunate realization that he  _ wanted _ to be here. No matter how intensely he tried to protest, he wanted this. He wanted Tugger’s arms lips heart and everything that was being offered to him. He wanted it. He could have it, arms lips heart and all. 

Tugger kissed Mistoffelees as though his entire life depended on it, or as though this was the only reason he had been born. Gentle and desperate, like he needed him. Like he needed him. 

He had known he’d be good, but how dare he be  _ this _ good?

Mistoffelees melted more easily than he would have liked to admit. He was powerless against this great thing surrounding him, taking him, having him. He couldn’t fight it if he wanted to; he was already done for. He wanted to give everything freely, and he didn’t want any of it back. 

Tugger smiled, Mistoffelees could feel it. It was that smooth, triumphant smile of his. The one that always adorned his face when he… 

When he was getting exactly what he wanted. 

He stiffened back up and yanked himself away, breathless and ashamed. It had been what Tugger wanted all along, and he had fallen directly into the trap. How could he be so naïve? 

Tugger watched him with a mixed expression of confusion and pride. He still carried that brightness in his eyes. He knew he won, and he knew what Mistoffelees had been trying to hide, and he knew and he knew and he knew. Mistoffelees struggled to hold his head high under that gaze. He couldn’t let Tugger see that he’d won. He couldn’t. 

Neither of them seemed willing to speak, holding that gaze and that silence that bound them together. There was so much Mistoffelees could say, so much that Tugger could say, too. They could yell and they could argue and they could make everything even worse than it was. Only a week ago, they’d gotten along fine. Only a week ago they had been comfortable with each other. Not afraid. Not stuck in this chase, Mistoffelees always running with Tugger in hot pursuit. Things could have stayed that way. They should have. 

“Get what you wanted?” Mistoffelees hissed, refusing to break the stare. Tugger still held his arms out, waiting, but now he let them drop back down, empty. What had once been full was now empty, drained. 

“Please, Misto,” he pleaded, “Don’t be like this.” 

Mistoffelees shook his head. “This is all you. This is all  _ you _ , Tugger, and you know it.” 

Tugger shook his head and advanced. “You could have said no. I would’ve listened.” 

“When do you ever?” 

“Mistoffelees, I always listen to you,” he said, soft and hurting and the opposite of everything he ever presented himself as. Mistoffelees almost swayed. He almost fell. 

No, he wouldn’t. He absolutely could not. he knew he was young, he knew he was immature, but he most certainly was not stupid. And of all the stupid things he could possibly do, letting Tugger have what he wanted would be the worst. 

“You always want what you can’t have,” he muttered, and though it was out loud, he knew who he was really reminding. “That’s all that this is.”

“Don’t leave me again,” Tugger said, although he just as well could have been begging, crying, threatening, “Don’t do this to me.” 

_ Don’t give, don’t sway, don’t break. _

“Unlike you, I don’t have a choice.” He stood as tall as he could, and still felt dwarfed. “I can’t be just another one of your whims, Tug. I’m going.” 

“Everlasting, Misto,” Tugger groaned, “At least promise that you won’t disappear this time.”

Mistoffelees looked at the ground. There was a glass bottle at his feet, and he kicked it, allowing it to spark. It was dangerous. Being around Tugger, it wasn’t good for him. He had to protect himself, that was his top priority. 

But… to have to see him every day and not even be able to talk to him? To turn everything, everything on its head and not have somewhere to fall back on? To end all those years, just because of this? 

His thoughts were too scrambled, too clouded. He couldn’t possibly figure all of this out right now, where everything was still so near, so insistent. 

At length, he settled on, “I’m sure I couldn’t avoid you if I wanted to.” 

Tugger felt an odd grating sensation within him as he watched Mistoffelees walk away again. How many times would this happen? How many times could it? Tugger wasn’t accustomed to rejection, and he had never taken it well. But this was the worst. It cut deeper and it stung sharper than anything he’d been thrown before. 

At least when he was rejected before, he was rejected flat-out. There was never any question about it. He went after something, it was denied, and that was that. He may chase after it for a little longer, but he moves on eventually. He always found something new. 

But this wasn’t something he just wanted. He loved him, as truly as Tugger knew what love was, he loved him. He couldn’t just let go, even if he didn’t believe him. For the first time in his life, Tugger knew exactly what he wanted, and Mistoffelees didn't believe him, and he was going to lose his mind trying to convince him otherwise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats on holding on till may, everybody! hope you don't mind a second update this week; it would appear i've finally hit a stride. have a great day, y'all 
> 
> (my twitter so you can yell at me to write, if you so please: https://twitter.com/yeehaw_fellas )


	4. too consumed in everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, the world is scary right now. here's some misto to hopefully make it feel a little better. stay safe.

Mistoffelees had planned on a quick, stealthy escape. He’d leave their clearing and slip away into the night, unseen, unharmed. 

But his body was still caught somewhere between trembling and paralyzed, threatening to just collapse altogether. He wondered if it would be an implosion or explosion. What happened when the body of a magical cat just couldn’t hold itself up anymore? Would there be any of him left? 

His feet were moving faster than his mind, carrying him to who-knows-where, as his brain stayed in that clearing. Amber eyes, torturous smile. Tugger, his best friend. His confidant, his favorite cat in this entire tribe, possibly the world. What had happened? What had led them here? How familiar they were before, such a short time ago. How well they had presumed to know each other. 

Mistoffelees knew Tugger. He knew what he wanted and he knew why it wouldn’t work. 

Tugger would get so much and Mistoffelees would only get whatever was left. Wasted time, maybe. Hurt, definitely. The sympathy of the tribe, as though he needed any more of that. No, the more he thought of it, the more he knew that he could not let anything happen between himself and Tugger. Distance was the only thing that could save them now. 

They were good friends. More than good friends, best friends, closer to each other than to anyone else in either of their lives. As close as two people could be, even though Tugger was so, well, Tugger. So impossible, so changeable, so volatile, so intense. It was what kept everyone else out, and it was what made what the two of them had just so special. 

Nobody had expected them to be friends. Old Deuteronomy’s youngest son was born into the spotlight of the tribe, and he liked being there. From the time he was a kitten, attention simply gravitated towards him. Good attention, bad attention; it hardly mattered to him. Tugger took it all in. Devoured it. 

Mistoffelees was born into the tribe, but he was kept hidden until he was older. The issue of his mother’s exile had made it necessary, and he and Victoria spent much of their youth away from everyone else. The other cats all knew who they were, and they either pitied them or hated them. It wasn’t until Bustopher had formally presented them before Old Deuteronomy that Mistoffelees found himself immersed in the tribe, finally one of them. 

Or, one of them enough. Wary and cautious, Mistoffelees kept his mouth shut and his eyes peeled. He hardly stepped out of his sister’s shadow, shrinking into it when necessary. He tried to hide, to be forgotten. It was simply his way. Dull the spark inside, keep your head low, for you never know just _who_ resented you for something you didn’t do. You didn’t know what they would do to you. 

Nobody expected them to get along. Perhaps that was precisely why they did. 

Mistoffelees hadn’t been paying attention to where he was walking all this time, too consumed in everything that had happened and everything that could happen now. Everything that could happen between amber eyes and that too-thick, too-soft mane. He nearly yelped when he slammed into another cat, and he just barely bit himself back from calling that one name that he couldn’t, wouldn’t call. What was wrong with him? _Why am I like this I’m not like this this isn’t me what’s wrong with me?_

“Misto!” Victoria exclaimed and immediately wrapped him in a crushing embrace. She was delicate and she was deceiving, and Mistoffelees could hardly breathe for the pressure crushing his ribs. “What happened? I just saw RTT leaving the yard and he-” 

Mistoffelees stepped free and cut her off, “Tugger?” 

Slightly confused, Victoria answered, “Yes? Anyway, what did he do to you?” 

What _didn’t_ he do? What hadn’t Mistoffelees seen? 

“Nothing,” Mistoffelees gulped, “He just wanted to talk.” 

There was a doubtful tilt to Victoria’s posture, her delicately crafted eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. She could be so _sharp_ when she wanted to be, and Mistoffelees wasn’t looking for himself, or anyone else, to be cut. 

“Really, Tori. I’m okay,” he lied, what he hoped was convincing. 

Still, that doubtful, distrustful look in her eye, her arms folded over her chest. Mistoffelees knew the look well. Victoria, while accepting enough of Tugger as a cat, never trusted him around her baby brother. Only _she_ was qualified to take care of him. Nobody, especially not the sleaziest, most temperamental cat in the tribe, could protect him in the way that she could. Nevermind that Mistoffelees could more than handle himself. 

“What did he want to talk about, then?” She pushed, fond of her interrogation. 

Mistoffelees weighed his options. If he told her, she’d be able to talk him out of his fog. She would beat the sense into his head, _do_ not _trust Rum Tum Tugger, I don’t care if you’re friends or not. He’ll take what he wants and leave you, you know that._

But if he told her, there would be nothing to stop her from (hardly figuratively) murdering Tugger. And while they weren’t on the best terms right now, Tugger was still Tugger. Mistoffelees didn’t want him to be hurt either. 

He’d better work this one out on his own. 

“Nothing,” he said, then elaborated, “Just the same as always, really.” 

Unsatisfied, she continued, “Then why were you trying to avoid him? And why did you show up alone today?” 

Mistoffelees paused, gathered his thoughts, and sifted through them all for something feasible that would satisfy Victoria's insatiable wonder. 

“Well I’ve been sick all last week, I didn’t-” 

“Quaxo!” A voice suddenly exclaimed. Mistoffelees flinched. 

Victoria, looking over his shoulder commented, “Oh, look at that. The other one is coming too, now.” 

She turned Mistoffelees around so he could see Munkustrap beckoning him over, not a few feet away from them. 

“I doubt it’s related to Tugger,” Mistoffelees appealed, quietly, “I’ll be quick.” 

“No, no, it’s alright. I was supposed to find Jemima anyway. She wanted to tell me about some sort of thing she’s planning.” 

Mistoffelees looked at her, somewhere between questioning and suspicion. 

“I don’t know,” Victoria said, and then squeezed his shoulder gently, “Be safe.” 

Mistoffelees decidedly did not want to deal with yet another tense conversation, but he couldn’t just avoid Munkustrap like he might be able to avoid someone else. He was too much a mentor for Mistoffelees to just leave him alone. He was more like one of the older cats than one of them. He even still called him, “Quaxo,” which was something hardly any other cats his age did. Mistoffelees quietly harbored suspicions of some sort of superiority complex. Tugger usually attributed it to Old Deuteronomy’s influence. Mistoffelees would joke back that Tugger had so many daddy issues that he was in no place to judge. 

“What happened to him?” Munkustrap asked curtly, once Mistoffelees had joined him behind the TSE-1. 

For the second time in the hour, Mistoffelees had to question, “Tugger?” 

“Look, Quaxo, I don’t know what you did or what he did, but I know why he was talking to you. The next time I spoke to him, he snapped at me and stormed off.” 

“I-” 

“What did you do to him? Better yet, what did he do to you? You’re not the type to act unprompted.” 

Oh, Everlasting Cat, not this again. Anything but this again. 

“Why didn’t you just ask Tug?” Mistoffelees countered. Obviously, Tugger had no issue airing out his dirty laundry for everyone to see. If Munkustrap knew, the whole tribe probably did.

Munkustrap groaned, bearing a brief and startling resemblance to his brother. “What do you think I tried to do? He barely told me anything, just that I’d be better off talking to you.” 

Well, that sounded like permission, didn’t it? But the thought that anyone, especially the tribe’s de facto leader, would know that anything had happened between Tugger and himself kept his mouth shut and his voice silent. 

He hadn’t stopped him. Mistoffelees hadn’t stopped Tugger until it was too late, and that was still the worst part. If anyone were to know…

Nobody could. 

“It was nothing important,” he settled, “Completely inconsequential, honestly. And really, I’d rather not talk about it.” 

Munkustrap wasn’t sated. He and Victoria would make a decent pair. “Did he hurt you? Or did you hurt him? You can understand why I need to know something like this-” 

“No one is hurt,” Mistoffelees said, “I really shouldn’t be the one telling you this, anyway, I’m not your brother.” 

“Well, it seems my brother has decided, yet again, that I’m not worth his time of day. I hope you’re telling the truth, Quaxo.” His tone wasn’t challenging or threatening, but Mistoffelees nodded somberly anyway. There was a sort of resigned tiredness in Munkustrap’s voice, as though he had to put up with this far too often. Mistoffelees wondered how many times Munkustrap had had to run damage control for Tugger.

_Just another whim. Another prize, only wanted by nature of his unattainability._

“Alright,” Munkustrap conceded with the air, his paw covering his face as if to mask his exhaustion. 

_Just another whim_. 

“I’m going to see if I can find my brother. Thanks for your help.”

Mistoffelees was about to respond with a cordial, “Anytime,” when Munkustrap cut him off. 

“Oh, and Quaxo?” 

“Haven’t gone anywhere.”

Munkustrap muttered something that could have been “of course”, and then said, “Right, Old Deuteronomy asked me to tell you that we’ll be adding some more responsibilities on your behalf for the next Ball, so we’re going to resume your training as soon as possible.” 

Mistoffelees digested this slowly. He knew that they’d been preparing him to eventually take over as the host of the Jellicle Ball for years, but they’d never started preparations this early. What else could he possibly be doing? 

“I’m already doing quite a bit,” he reminded Munkustrap, as though he could have forgotten. 

He shrugged, betraying that he wasn’t entirely sure either. “Just more in general, I suppose. This is going to be a big one, I think. He’s put you on the invitation this time.” 

Mistoffelees’ eyes widened, and he felt an extra kick to his heartbeat. “The invitation?” 

Munkustrap smiled, “I told him you’d be glad to hear that. I really do need to find Tugger now, and make sure he doesn’t ruin anything.” 

Mistoffelees had almost forgotten, too. 

“I’ll see you for rehearsal, then?” He asked so that _Tugger_ and _ruin_ wouldn’t be the last words in his head. 

“Tomorrow, if possible,” Munkustrap agreed, and then set off. 

Mistoffelees waited for a second, almost convinced that Old Deuteronomy himself would be calling him next. Not that he would have heard it with Munkustrap’s censure in one ear and Victoria’s concerns in the other and Tugger’s voice under it all pleading, “Don’t leave me again, don’t do this to me,” over and over and over and- 

_STOP._ Mistoffelees took a deep breath and forced himself to stop, stop, STOP. 

He could find Tugger right now. He could catch up with him on his way home and they could talk and they could pretend that Mistoffelees’ head wasn’t a war zone right now. They could pretend they were still friends and nothing had changed. Nothing had to change, right? Why should anything have to change? It was just Tugger. It was just Mistoffelees. 

His walk home was a brief and lonely one. He didn’t want to think, not now, not anymore, preferable not ever. A dull tingle had started at the base of his skull and was threatening to consume the rest of it as well. It traveled down his spine and heaved at the border of everywhere. When he arrived home, he pretended not to see the streak of a lush, brown tail slipping over the fence into Tugger’s yard. 


	5. close enough (still not good enough)

Tugger was beginning to understand how Macavity could have turned on his tribe. 

He didn’t really know the _why_ of it, just that one day he rebelled, and some cats followed him. But it wasn’t the _why_ that he was understanding, just the _how_. The emotion. The I-could-level-the-entire-junkyard-right-now-and-I-wouldn’t-even-feel-that-bad.

There was a very good reason why Mistoffelees was the one with magical powers and not Tugger. If he could do even a fraction of what Mistoffelees could, he wouldn’t be able to keep it in check. Especially not now. 

So close. He had been so, so close. Of course, some of himself had to come through. Some of the traditional Rum Tum Tugger, childish and demanding. Taking what he wanted. Always just taking what he wanted, whether it was good for him or not. Whether it was good for others or not. It was his way. But did Mistoffelees really have to flee _again?_

Had it been that bad? Was he somehow repulsive to him? It wasn’t as though Mistoffelees tried to resist. No, on the contrary, he had melted, and Tugger had felt him ease into his grasp, and Tugger wanted more. Needed more. And Mistoffelees had run. 

_Why did you do it? WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?_

With a mighty collapse, he kicked the crate across the clearing, watching it tumble across the uneven ground. He had sat there, he had watched there. 

_“I’ve seen what you call, ‘dancing’, Tugs. Come here, let me show you.”_

Tugger sighed, heavy and helpless, and he crossed the clearing to retrieve the crate. It wasn’t fair to Mistoffelees. To everything, they’d done. 

This wasn’t fair to him, to Tugger! 

Tugger was used to the way he wanted things. Here and there and this but not that. I won’t take it if you offer, but I’ll seek it myself when you’ve put it away. What I want is what I want, and I want nothing and everything all at the same time, all the time. What he _wasn’t_ used to was this wanting, the way he wanted Mistoffelees. Fiercely, unrelentingly. Wanting had never done this to him before. 

Mistoffelees. 

Why did it have to be Mistoffelees? 

Of all the cats in the world, why him? And why did he have to be so resistant? Tugger knew he could be stubborn, sure, but the two of them had always been exceptions. The way they presented to the rest of the world didn’t exist with each other. They knew each other, they could break each other down and piece the other back together brick by brick by brick. But Tugger had never anticipated this. He had never thought…

Why did it have to be Mistoffelees? 

_You know me, Misto,_ he thought to himself, and then he said it aloud because it was too much to be kept in. “You _know_ me!” 

Just as he set the crate upright where it had been. Munkustrap came storming into their clearing. 

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” he began, sternly. Tugger could already tell where this would go; Munkustrap had put on his “big brother” voice. 

He sighed and sat down on the crate, deliberately avoiding Munkustrap’s gaze. “What do you want?” 

“I’ll tell you what I want,” Munkustrap scolded, “I just saw Quaxo leaving here and he looked like he witnessed a murder. What in the Everlasting’s name did you say to him? 

Tugger didn’t think of how to put it before he opened his mouth, “I didn’t-” 

“I know you did, Tugger. You must have,” Munkustrap insisted, forcing himself into Tugger’s field of vision. 

“But I-” 

“Can you at least _try_ to go a day without hurting someone else?”

“Can you at least _try_ to believe that maybe I can handle myself?” 

Munkustrap laughed sardonically, “I’ll believe it when I see it. I know you can’t stop pushing, and you don’t know what’ll happen if you push the wrong cat too far.” 

“Who, you?” Tugger suggested sarcastically, standing and walking around the crate. It stood between Munkustrap and himself. 

“You know who I mean.” His words were more of a snarl than a bite. “We still don’t know if Quaxo will turn on us.” 

For a solid count of ten, Tugger could only stare in disbelief. He and Munkustrap spent more time around Mistoffelees than anyone else in the tribe did (except perhaps for Victoria), and he still didn’t trust him? They’d known him for so long, and he _still_ didn’t trust him? 

“Munk, that’s ridiculous. You know him, he wouldn’t!” 

Munkustrap shook his head, as though he had explained this too many times. It was the first time Tugger had heard of it. “They thought they knew Macavity, too. It just takes one cat to push too far-” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tugger snapped. “Besides, this isn’t any of your business.” 

He leaned forward, “Don’t forget that you’re the one that brought me into this. I wouldn’t have cared if you hadn’t come to me. I wouldn’t have known.”

“You can step out of it, now,” Tugger suggested. 

“But you obviously can’t handle it on your own. You need to grow up, Tugger and learn

how to deal with not getting what you want sometimes.” 

Tugger groaned, forcing himself not to read into what Munkustrap said. “Munk, I didn’t do anything to hurt him. If you won’t listen to me, at least ask him.” 

Munkustrap was defeated, worn down by a conversation that he didn’t want to have in the first place, so he simply said, “Fine. But chances are I won’t get anything more out of Quaxo than I got from you.” 

Hit by a sudden wave of possessiveness, Tugger muttered, “His name is Mistoffelees.” He looked up as if to challenge Munkustrap with his eyes. “He doesn’t like ‘Quaxo’.”

“He isn’t yours to defend, Tugger,” Munkustrap reminded him in turn. 

There was so much that Tugger could say to that. _I know him better_ or _he certainly isn’t yours_ or _I know but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to._ He could continue to fight Munkustrap, continue to push. 

Push him too far. 

Munkustrap didn’t know anything about Mistoffelees. Maybe he knew him marginally better than the rest of the tribe, but he still knew nothing. Tugger knew him. He knew what he was doing, and he wasn’t about to lie down and keep watching Mistoffelees walk farther and farther away from him. Not when they’d fallen so perfectly into step before. 

He felt so heavy. Too heavy to pull his own weight. Much less push another. So he stayed quiet. He let the attention pass on from him. What else could he do? 

Munkustrap noticed. He may be stern, but he still knew things. He still saw. 

He sighed, like wind tumbling from the mountains into a valley, blowing gently along with the current of a stream. “I’m not trying to be harsh, Tugs. I just can’t keep solving your problems for you.” 

He left before Tugger even had the chance to correct him, and say that absolutely nothing, _nothing_ had been solved. 

In the entire tribe, there were only two cats that Tugger ever went to for help. One of them had just declared that he was officially, definitively, done with helping. The other was at the epicenter of the problem. He was what this was all about, and he was not much of an option at the moment either. He was, for all intents and purposes, alone. Completely alone, without a soul to speak to about what mattered. What really mattered. 

He mulled over his options. 

The junkyard was still shivering with the aftereffects of the Ball. That was always the way of it, the Jellicle Moon and its energy still held the cats captive long after it set on the dawn after the ball. It was a sort of connection, energy so intense that it strengthened the bond of all the cats in the tribe as a whole. It linked them together, almost the same way it did on the night of the Jellicle Ball. That same something was in the air, you could tell simply by looking at the cats. A little touch of something more than reality danced among them all. 

It’d be easy for him to find someone. All he had to do was walk in the midst of some of his go-to worshipers, and they’d be all over him. It was always that easy after the Ball. He could take his pick and be confident in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be denied. Pick a cat, any cat, and bring them to his den. To bed. Just like magic, they’ll disappear when it’s over, and he’d be sated. His mind will have come off of the issue and he could continue on without the heartache. 

Plato favored him nowadays, Tugger had noticed. He followed a little more closely than the others recently; breathed in a little more of Tugger’s air than the others. He would be far from ideal (far from Mistoffelees), but he would be a he. It could be close enough, and more than easy. 

Close enough. 

Still not good enough. 

Tugger would only be thinking of Mistoffelees, he knew. Sizing him up against the body in his arms, contrasting the feeling of him to the feeling of another. It wouldn’t be good enough. Tugger knew what he wanted. 

Maybe he should try going home. He could meet Mistoffelees along the way, he could try again. Make him see this time, really see. He’d control himself, he’d handle himself. 

And Mistoffelees would probably still walk away. Leave him alone. 

Tugger didn’t know what he wanted. 

(That was a lie he knew he knew he wanted Mistoffelees to see him Mistoffelees smiling at him Mistoffelees pressed against him and Mistoffelees with him and with him and with him.) 

He didn’t know what he should do. And there was no one to direct him one way or the other. 

Maybe he’d be better off alone for now. Just for now, so he could plan. He’d make a brilliant, clever plan to win over the cleverest cat he knew. He just needed Mistoffelees to _know_. He needed him to know how real it was. How real Tugger felt this. He didn’t know how he’d do it just yet, but he would. He wanted Mistoffelees. He would get what he wanted. He had to. 

He would do it. That was love, after all, wasn’t it? 

_“Tugger, are you moping?”_

__________

“I’m feeling depressed just looking at you. Come here.” 

“What?” Tugger looked back down, turning his head from where his gaze had been transfixed on the moon. Mistoffelees was beckoning him with a proud paw, reaching towards him. 

Tugger took it. 

“You’re bored,” Mistoffelees stated plainly as he gently pulled Tugger to his feet. Even with his lack of physical strength to fully support him, his grip was firm and insistent. “So I am going to help you.” 

“I don’t really want to do anything right now,” he argued, most only for the sake of arguing. 

The feeling of Mistoffelees’ paw in his own, warming him, balancing him. He should have known then. (He didn’t realize until later, later.) 

“Shut up,” Mistoffelees ordered, and then explained, “I’m teaching you to dance.” 

Tugger normally would have held fast to his previous sentiments, but he noticed that Mistoffelees was smiling. More than smiling, he was beaming. Determined and glad, he beamed up at Tugger’s conflicted face. 

Mistoffelees knew how to move him. Not that he’d be going down without a fight.

“I already know how to dance, Quaxo. Trust me, I don’t need any lessons,” he deflected. 

Mistoffelees took a step back and focused his calculating eyes on Tugger. 

“Really now? So you call that dancing?” 

Tugger smirked. “More than dancing, Quaxo. This,” he hooked his thumbs in his studded belt and circled his hips in demonstration, “is what I call talent.” 

“You would?” Mistoffelees raised an eyebrow, before stepping back in slightly. “Now, take my paw again, Tugs.” 

“Do you really have to call me that?” Tugger complained, even as he wrapped his fingers around Mistoffelees’ paw. “It sounds like you’re my father or something.” 

Mistoffelees grinned in a way that told Tugger that he would _absolutely_ be calling him that.

“Well don’t call me Quaxo. Give me your arm.” 

Tugger followed directions exceptionally for once, allowing Mistoffelees to guide his arm into holding him somewhere just above that slim waist and on his back. Mistoffelees placed his free paw on Tugger’s shoulder and pulled him so that they were facing each other, not quite chest-to-chest. Tugger should have known. So, so many times that _he just should have known_. 

“Why not?” Tugger asked, curious. 

Mistoffelees ignored him and instead instructed, “Watch my feet.” 

Tugger tried his best to follow as Mistoffelees guided him through a sort of box step. Mistoffelees couldn’t help but laugh softly as his partner stumbled through, struggling to avoid trampling Mistoffelees and forcing his hips to move far more than what was necessary. Tugger was a bit of a mess, and it was hilarious. 

“You don’t need to sway your hips so much,” Mistoffelees kept laughing, even as he watched Tugger willfully stiffen up. “Who are you trying to seduce?” 

Tugger bit back a smile, still concentrating on the steps. “You, if I’m lucky.” He glanced up from his feet to gauge Mistoffelees’ reaction. 

The cat in question was unimpressed. “You wish you could, Tugger. Don’t be afraid to hold yourself stronger, you’re supposed to be leading me.” 

“I can’t lead if I don’t know the dance.” 

“Well, you are.” 

Tugger fell silent then, concentrating on the steps. If he listened closely, he could hear Mistoffelees counting under his breath. “One-two-three… one-two-three…” 

He followed the small voice, and he finally found himself getting it, falling into step with Mistoffelees. He let out a triumphant laugh, and looked up, seeking approval. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mistoffelees teased, and the next time Tugger stepped, Mistoffelees pushed forward, urging him to turn. 

“I thought I was leading,” Tugger complained. 

“And you are,” he stated, matter-of-factly, “I’m just showing you how to lead.” 

Tugger tried his best to follow along, even though it really wasn’t his sort of dancing. But, well, he was enjoying it, for what it was worth. He took Mistoffelees’ example and turned them around again. 

“Why don’t you want me to call you Quaxo?” He asked eventually, breaking the silence. 

Mistoffelees sighed and stopped dancing, dropping Tugger’s paw from his own. “Really?” 

He made a sort of full-body gesture to say, _yes, really._ Mistoffelees sighed again, softer this time, and shook his head. Take the paw again. One-two-three... one-two-three… 

At length, he admitted, “It reminds me too much of my mother. You know parents and second names. I’d rather just go by the human one and have that be it.” 

Tugger nodded in understanding, looking down at his friend. Mistoffelees hardly ever seemed so small, yet he was still so completely composed. Head held high, back straight, and proud. Same Mistoffelees as ever, the one he’s known in the past few months when he fully joined the tribe. 

“Victoria does the same,” he continued on, and it seemed as though Tugger’s silence was encouraging him to say more, perhaps more than he wanted to. Tugger had already heard all that he wanted to hear, so he said something instead. 

“Then it’ll be Mistoffelees from now on.” 

Mistoffelees smirked. “That’s Mr. Mistoffelees to you,” he playfully corrected, and then he gasped softly as Tugger took it upon himself to dip him. 

So much time. _He should have known._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured it was about time we got to see the boys before their fallout. hopefully y'all are staying safe!


	6. and yet he was afraid to close his eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time, no see! if that's all you need to hear from me, then please, skip the (far too long) endnotes.

“Oh, thank the Everlasting,” Munkustrap muttered hurriedly, spying Mistoffelees. He sighed greatly, and called out, “Quaxo! Hello!” 

A bold entrance. Exactly what Mistoffelees had wanted, especially after taking great pains to conceal himself as he approached the Junkyard that morning. Any moment now, and  _ he _ would be sauntering over, draping himself over Mistoffelees’ shoulders, and insisting that Mistoffelees owed him something. He could hear his voice already, slick as oil and dark as it too. He could practically hear the laugh. 

(Something teasing, something taunting, some laugh from some memory from Mistoffelees’ own throat.) “ _ You’re insufferable, but not stupid.” _

Munkustrap was waiting, but his genial smile had begun to falter. Mistoffelees hadn’t moved since he’d been beckoned. From on top of a tire in a far corner of the main clearing, his mentor watched. Waited. Mistoffelees was being impolite. And yet…

“ _ Come on, Tugs, you can’t be this clueless.”  _

He shook his head, flicking one of his ears. This behavior bordered on paranoia. The Rum Tum Tugger wasn’t here, and he could take a hint. 

Sometimes. 

Either way, there was nothing to worry about for this moment. Quickly, Mistoffelees made his way over to Munkustrap’s perch. The tire stood at the edge of a cordoned-off section, no doubt of Munkustrap’s own construction. Old appliance- and shoeboxes served as a barrier, a rehearsal space. He hopped over a microwave box and turned his head up, expecting. 

Munkustrap leaped down from the tire to meet him on the ground. “I honestly didn’t expect you to show up today,” he began. Mistoffelees barely had a chance to ask before he explained, “You’ll have to forgive me, but after witnessing the aftermath of my brother’s and your falling out...” 

His fur prickled with electricity at the thought of yesterday, of Tugger airing his drama to his brother, to anyone who would listen. If the entire Junkyard didn’t know by now, he was sure they’d know soon. And soon they’d look at him with those glances, knowing that he was no better than them. Knowing he was lower, even, for having gotten involved with the most infamous, indecisive casanova this side of the Thames. Some things can’t be controlled. Some things just happen, and now Mistoffelees would be judged for yet another  _ “thing _ ” that just happened to him. He wanted to hate him, and if he thought long and hard enough, he could almost convince himself that he did. 

And yet he was afraid to close his eyes. His day had been restless and torturous, because every time he had tried to sleep, he was forced to relive it. He was forced to feel the familiarity of Tugger’s smile playing on his mouth, blessing him and cursing him with the same breath. And through all of this, that voice spun circles around his ears.  _ “Try me. Please, Misto. Promise.”  _

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m hardly affected,” Mistoffelees finally answered, curt and final. 

It was as though Munkustrap hadn’t even heard. “Yes, well, I hope that the situation between you won’t damage your opinion of me. I know that I’m not responsible for his actions, but, well, seeing as you yourself are an older brother, you must understand how I feel.” 

In all honesty, no. He didn’t understand, but he wasn’t about to set him off on a different tangent. Although, maybe it would be better to steer Munkustrap away from the target. He prepared himself to say just that, and-

“Although,” Munkustrap plowed ahead, “I doubt Victoria could ever be so reckless as Tugger is. I’ve been cleaning up his messes since we were kits. If he can’t find any trouble, he’ll create some of his own.” In a lowered tone, he added, “He and Mungojerrie seemed to get along well when they were younger. I suppose that was the reason, but it didn’t last. Those dreadful twins started doing...whatever they do and, well. He found other friends.” He looked up at Mistoffelees, but quickly diverted, seating himself on the ground and offering a spot near him. Mistoffelees complied. Maybe, at last, this conversation would be over. 

Munkustrap began to stretch in preparation for their rehearsal, and concluded, “Well, you know how it is with him.” 

As Mistoffelees folded himself, stretching so he could touch his forehead to his leg, he silently acknowledged that Munkustrap had a point. He did know. He had known Tugger through so much life, he knew the shape of his fits, of his tantrums, of his joys and victories. He’d seen every single one of Tugger’s “I want’s” and followed them like a map. He had known every part of him, he had seen it all. 

_ “I’m in love with you, Mistoffelees.”  _

Somehow, he had even seen that coming. He knew him. 

“...so tired of picking up the pieces after him, but it’s my responsibility at this point. If Old Deuteronomy knew half of the things that he gets up to… well I don’t know how he’d react. But he would be displeased. And it’s all thanks to me that word of that has never reached him. In any case, due to my brother’s surprising lack of respect and self-control, I’ve decided that I’m done cleaning up after his messes. He’s been a grown tom for far too long to still be relying on me to solve everything. So you can consider me totally impartial to everything happening between the two of you. I don’t even want to speak about it anymore.” 

Mistoffelees straightened and nodded gravely, as though he’d been paying very close attention all along. 

“Speaking of!” Munkustrap finally addressed him, “Have you seen him around yet today?” 

Mistoffelees shook his head. Munkustrap echoed the motion, with piercing blue eyes downcast and disappointed. “He’s going to make a scene, I just know it. After yesterday, he’ll have to restore the blow to his confidence.” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Mistoffelees sighed, repeating his stretch with the other leg, “It  _ is _ Tugger, after all.” 

Munkustrap sighed similarly, disappointed again. He spoke as he rose, “You know, Quaxo, sometimes I wonder why we didn’t become the better pair of friends.” He offered his paw down to Mistoffelees. 

He took it, pulling himself up. “Thanks.” 

Mistoffelees would have been more inspired by Munkustrap’s point if he didn’t know exactly why. Being friends with Tugger was a full-time commitment, and Mistoffelees had seen the way the two brothers had bickered and fought. From the moment he and Tugger met, it was as though the universe had fated them to be together. There was an energy about the whole affair, an energy as foreign as it was thrilling. He felt it. They both did. And Mistoffelees, a cat with more than a fair share of magical ability, knew better than to ignore a sign as bold as that. 

And besides, he and Tugger were similar in some ways. He, too, would have soon tested Munkustrap’s patience. 

Perhaps he shouldn’t be thinking this. 

“Well,” Munkustrap announced, “Shall we begin?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my goodness...it's been almost three months, hasn't it? i am endlessly sorry for how long this took to write. from june second to today has been an absolute rollercoaster. high school graduation, birthday, college preparation, second high school graduation (because, you know. rona.), college prep, anniversary, spending time with friends, and all the while desperately, desperately trying to figure out how on earth this chapter should go. this summer has been far too insane. 
> 
> anyways, i'm already working on chapter seven. thank you for your patience guys, and thank you for the support! stay safe out there!   
> (my twitter, as always, for purposes of heckling me into writing: https://twitter.com/yeehaw_fellas )


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